Chapter 15 #2
“Mrs. Farris fell down her stairs and broke her hip last night. She’s home with a concussion and awaiting surgery.
She’ll be out at least two months. I’m trying to find a replacement, but it might be next week before I do.
There wasn’t a single staff member who could arrange their schedule to accommodate with such short notice.
I was hoping you could sing some songs with the kids today until I can figure things out? ”
Everett bristles, and I don’t blame him. This is the last thing he needs on his plate.
“We’ve got it covered,” I speak for him. I don’t want him to have to worry about any of this. In a way, we both roped each other into this situation. But the least I can do is make it a decision he doesn’t regret.
When I look up, Brian is acknowledging me with a stare. “Summer, can I speak to you for a second?”
“You okay?” I double-check with Everett first.
He nods, so I follow Brian. My blood pressure rises when he leads me out of the gym and clear down the hallway to have this conversation.
“Wow. Drop the news on the poor guy and then ditch him in there with a room full of kids. Great plan.”
Brian stops and finally faces me. “Millie is gone.”
I don’t even have to hide my surprise.
“Wh-what do you mean, gone?” I hope the first sound I drug out didn’t give away that I know exactly where she went. That I drove up after dark and swiped her from the property we used to share.
“I heard something hit the garage door last night, so I went out to check on her and found a clump of hair and some… blood smeared on the driveway.”
I try to hold in the sigh that wants to fight its way out of my lungs. He didn’t see us. Everett’s shoulder must have rubbed against the cement when he rolled underneath the garage door.
Brian is studying my expression just as much as I’m studying his. Mapping out the truth.
If I say maybe it was a coyote, it would be an accurate guess. It’s not unheard of to have them roaming land that’s so close to the foothills. But if it wasn’t followed by a flood of tears, he’d know I was making something up. I’m not that great of an actress.
“I hope she’s okay” is all I say.
“Me too,” he lies. He could care less about that cat. “I just thought you should know.”
My eyes narrow. What is his real motivation for bringing me out here? A reminder that he got to keep Millie?
“She’s strong,” I add. “She’ll pull through.” What I really mean is I’m strong, and I pulled through. “Thank you for telling me. I better get back in there.”
He nods but snags my hand before I finish turning. “Oh, and Summer?”
The warmth of his skin seeps into my palm, the slope of his smile all too familiar.
“I liked the red dress and heels.”
That’s the outfit I wore to my second day at Emma’s law practice, the one I was wearing when I made Everett drop to his knees and beg me to work for him too.
Of course Brian liked it. It wasn’t something the old me ever used to wear because I never had to look business-professional.
He doesn’t deserve any details about the situation, but this sick part of me still wants to prove him wrong.
“I’m a legal assistant now. No need for your spousal support anymore.”
His eyebrows meet his hairline, proving I was right to say it. His reaction is incredibly satisfying.
I yank my hand from his grasp and disappear through the gym doors.
Everett’s done a great job engaging with the kids in a conversation about music since I stepped out.
I do a quick sweep of the room, surveying what we have to work with.
There is a basket of soccer balls in the corner, basketball hoops on either end of the ceiling, and a stage.
None of that feels very play-esque. I’m at a loss for what to do until I land on the instrument strung around Everett’s neck.
“Can I borrow that?”
Everett’s eyebrow lifts as he transfers the guitar to my outstretched hands.
I play chords E, A, and D in a repetitive pattern, singing “Ninety-Nine Bottles of Beer.”
Henry covers his ears.
Everett looks amused. “An alcohol song at an elementary school?”
“A campfire song,” I correct him, and keep singing.
He chuckles, but it’s working. Kids are clapping to the beat. A couple know the tune and sing along. When I get to the end, I strum up and down for dramatic effect, and they all break out in applause.
“Didn’t know you had that in you,” Everett says.
I lift the strap off my shoulders and set it back over his head. “I’m full of surprises.” Like the fact that I’m harboring a secret crush on you.
A throat clears, and I pull my attention back to the kids. “Anyway! I’m Summer and this is—”
“Rhett Dawson,” a tall boy with a backward baseball cap shouts between smacks of his gum. Judging by his height and superiority complex, he’s the only fifth-grader here.
“You are correct. What’s your name?”
“Blake.”
“Well, Blake and everyone else, I know you all came for the play, but—”
“Mrs. Farris got an ouchie.” An adorable girl with a head full of cornrows wiggles her front tooth.
“That’s an understatement,” Everett mutters under his breath.
I’m sure Brian’s two-month estimate was generous before. A hip replacement at seventy will mean a long road to recovery.
“What’s your name?” I ask her. She sucks in a little drool that escapes her mouth when she pulls her fingers from it.
“Etta.”
“Hi, Etta. You’re right. She got a big ouchie. There’s a chance we might have to do this play without her.”
“Does that mean we still have to do The Rainbow Fish?” asks a boy in a wheelchair wearing a basketball jersey. He’s parked at enough of an angle for me to read the name across his upper back—Isaac.
I’ve come to a few of Mrs. Farris’s performances to support Brian.
She does a good job. Always picks a story with a moral lesson and a few songs to go with it.
But I can tell from the I don’t want to do that one groans followed by a Yeah, me neither and It’s boring that these kids would rather do anything else.
“Well, what do you all want to do instead?” The room gets eerily quiet. So much so that I wonder if they’ve ever been asked that before.
It would come as no surprise to me if they haven’t. Be the Brave is prided for its academic success and religious beliefs. Their moto is Believe, become, be the brave, not Get creative, think outside the box, and have fun.
I repeat my question. Everyone’s still staring until one brave little hand goes up in the front. It’s an Asian boy wearing a lime-green jump rope T-shirt.
“What’s your name?”
“Noah. Can it have magic and Pokémon?”
A collective breath is held waiting for my response. I look at the exit—the place where the only person who can stop us is out of view. A giant smile spreads across my face before I feed him the answer that my own heart needs to hear.
“I don’t see why not. How about we include everyone’s favorite things. Let’s do a talent show!”